


i hurt myself today

by steelatoms



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Ambrose and Sabrina friendship, Angst, Blood, Depression, Emotional Hurt, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Lots of tears, Mental Health Issues, Nick Scratch needs a hug, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Post-Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018) Season 3, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22863217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelatoms/pseuds/steelatoms
Summary: After everything he's endured,  Nick Scratch decides he can't hold on any longer.
Relationships: Background Zelda Spellman/Marie Lafleur, Nicholas Scratch/Sabrina Spellman, Prudence Night/Ambrose Spellman
Comments: 7
Kudos: 93





	i hurt myself today

Nicholas Scratch was tainted.

He had never been pure or innocent, and at the tender age of seventeen had more blood on his hands than he ought to have but he had never been so completely ruined.

The Dark Lord has broken his mind, spirit and body and he couldn’t heal, couldn’t undo the feeling of him under his skin. Lucifer sat in his soul, feasted on his heart and tore at his mind, and yet, it wasn’t the worst factor about his situation.

It was Sabrina’s horrified face as he snapped at her, the hurt, the betrayal, the way that her breath hitched as she tried not to break into a million pieces there and then.

_ That really fucking hurt. _

He broke it off with her as soon as Lucifer’s physical residue was gone; he wasn’t there anymore but a part of him would forever be polluted and every time he closed his eyes, his own words mocked him.

_ ‘You weren’t worth it!’ _

It was a lie, meant to hurt her, but in the most twisted way, there was some truth to it, and much as he tried to hide it, a part of him hated her for his own choice.

It was stupid and hypocritical and mortal; and that’s what he hated the most. He blamed her for something that was never her fault, and as a result, ended up hurting her.

Seeing Sabrina with Caliban reverted Nick back to his selfish ways like the flicking of a switch, and when she told him to back off, it was like being a scolded child (though he barely recalled being a child, having been raised by Amalia).

Now, everything was fixed, the evil was gone (for the moment, at least), and things had gone back to normal.

Unfortunately, Nick didn’t have a normal anymore, and couldn’t return to the Academy, as every time he ran into Sabrina, it twisted the knife further.

Prudence had also dropped out, the death of Dorcas and her breakup with Ambrose weighing like a cloud over her head.

Unlike Nick, the experience made her stronger, angrier and more desperate to end her father’s reign of terror.

Nick couldn’t think of revenge, couldn’t think of anything other than the impending feeling that everything was worthless, that  _ he  _ was worthless. 

His nightmares came nightly, and though Prudence slept in the next room in their tiny apartment, he could never bring himself to ask her for help.

Eventually, all communication broke down, and the two former best friends barely spoke, with Nick barely ever leaving his room and sleeping most of the day.

Everything eventually lead to a climax, and the day that Nick Scratch decided to commit suicide was one that was a long time coming.

It was a fairly ordinary day; he had been sleeping, Prudence was watching something meaningless on the television with little interest.

Nick awoke in the late afternoon, blinking as a splitting migraine stretched out over his cranium as a result of oversleeping. He rubbed his dry eyes and gave a small, shuddering sigh; for someone who slept so much, he was completely unrested and each of the bones in his body felt like they were weighed down with cement.

He reluctantly pulled himself into a sitting position, glancing at the clock beside him.

_ 17:54,  _ the blaring digital red screamed at him.

He was ravenous, having barely eaten for days but he knew he’d haul it up if he tried. Prudence was worried; he saw it each time they caught a glance of each other, but she didn’t want to push, believing he needed space.

Truthfully, he didn’t know what he needed; nothing staved the pain for long enough; not sex, not drugs, not even the best alcohol.

The only way out he saw was permanent.

Slowly he stumbled into the joint bathroom, the buzz from the television next door causing his ears to twitch and the migraine to increase tenfold.

He caught his reflection in the mirror and held it for a few seconds; his handsome, chiselled features that he once bragged about seemed hollow, and his eyes were burdened by dark shadows, the sclera red with exhaustion. His lips were chapped and he looked like his skin was barely clinging on to his fragile bones. His hair, usually styled and pretty, was unkempt and unwashed.

And that was just his physical body; underneath the skin, he could feel Lucifer’s claws as they dug into him, his body enclosing him against the wall as he took him again and again.

People had always called Nick a bit of a manwhore, but now all he could think about was the painful violation, the hot tears that fought to run down his face as he tried to convince himself this was all worth it.

_ It wasn’t. _

He loved Sabrina and would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat once again, but he’d also rather have died than have Lucifer around him and inside him again.

When Lucifer’s sliver remained inside him, he had tried all methods to push the feelings away, letting other people torture and fuck him to defean the sound of his voice in his mind.

_ You’re my weak little bitch, Nicholas. _

_ You’re mine. _

Each time, he tried to fuck away the hurt, the moment of brief pleasure was satisfying, with a stranger’s name on his lips and a moment of temporary amnesia.

After the moment passed, and it always did, he was disgusted with himself, never more so when Sabrina caught him; witches and warlocks were a polyamorous species by nature, but the look of betrayal in her eyes tore him to pieces.

Nick shakily opened one of the drawers, feeling around for what he needed until he pulled it out.

Hanging between his thumb and forefinger was a glinting razor blade, and for a second he was enthralled by it, the way the light shone off the silver and how just the feel of it made his heart a little lighter.

He gave a small smile, tears blurring his vision as he brought the razor to his exposed wrist and gritted his teeth as he prepared for the sting of pain.

It wasn’t the most practical way to go, he realised, there were many other methods which would ensure his death, but he didn’t care.

Seventeen years old and he was ready to die; a child, ravaged by war and trauma.

With a muted cry of pain, he slashed his wrist vertically, knowing it was an easier way to ensure death.

Unfortunately for him, the shock of pain caused him to stumble back into the door, his own blood spurting onto the floor as he knocked objects off side tables, including a lamp, the clatter of which startled him enough to drop the blade.

He heard the television switch off, and impending footsteps and began to grow panicked, his hands trembling as the tears started to fall.

_ “Shit, shit, shit!”  _ he hissed, and tried to find the razor, vision blurring from the amount of blood he was losing.

Prudence knocked at the door, “Nicky? Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m perfectly f-- fine, Pru!” he replied, and it was the worst lie he had ever told as he fiddled for the blade some more, blood pooling onto the floor and under the door.

Prudence didn’t notice at first, but the tangy metallic smell and the sudden wetness of her shoes caused her to scream aloud. She proceeded to frantically bang the door down, Nick slipping away on the other side, and when she was finally able to open it, he was barely conscious, drenched in his own blood.

It was all terribly familiar, and she remembered the feeling of helplessness as she was informed about Dorcas, and how she still dreamt of her slain sister.

She wasn’t willing to lose anyone else, so pulled the groggy Nick into her lap and teleported to the Spellman house, knowing the rest of the coven were gathered there.

Reactions were delayed, and it wasn’t until she tearfully pleaded,  _ “Help me,”  _ that anyone noticed Nick’s limp body in her lap.

_ “Nicholas!”  _ Sabrina shrieked and bolted over, cupping his cheek, “Wh-What happened?”

Prudence blinked back tears as she explained, “I-- I think he did this to himself.”

“Nick wouldn’t--” Sabrina was cut off when her aunt Hilda ushered her out of the way, studying the boy’s wound.

Hilda frowned in concern, “He’s lost a lot of blood, he’s going to need some space so Zelda and I can help him.”

“I’m not leaving him!” Sabrina cried, and Prudence instantly retorted in anger.

She snapped, “All you do is leave him! You and-- You and your stupid family, destroying everything in it’s path!” 

Sabrina was taken aback; Prudence didn’t mean what she was saying, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.

Before further barbs could be exchanged, Ambrose touched both their shoulders, though barely even grazed Prudence’s skin in fear.

Prudence spat, standing up,  _ “Don’t touch me.”  _ she stormed out of the room.

Ambrose couldn’t disguise the hurt in his eyes, tears threatening him, but with a stern look from Zelda, he held them back and pulled Sabrina away from Nick, despite her valiant attempts to struggle.

When they left the room, he let her go, only for her to swing around and right hook him in the jaw; it hurt, but not nearly as much as the sight of Sabrina, crying and shaking as regret filled her eyes.

He gathered her against his chest, running his hands through her hair as he tried to comfort her, as he did when she was much smaller and could fit into the crook of his arm.

He remembered the first time he saw her; he was a criminal and looked down upon by the majority of the family, but when he first gazed upon her, her eyes wide and innocent as Hilda rocked her in her arms, he couldn’t help but love her, it was so simple.

Now, things were complicated, and the love of Sabrina’s life laid dying in the next room (Ambrose wasn’t unfamiliar with heartbreak, with Luke and Prudence both being in a long line of people who had shattered his soul), and all he could do was hold her.

When she eventually calmed down, she lifted her head from his chest; his shirt was drenched with her tears and he didn’t care at all.

“I’m…” she choked off initially, unable to complete the sentence as her face crumpled but when she composed herself, she concluded, “I’m sorry I punched you.”

Ambrose gave a soft, broken laugh, “It’s okay, cous. I know. Besides, I’ve been deserving of one for a while.”

“What happened with Blackwood--”

He cut her off, “I should’ve killed him. Back in Scotland, I should’ve ended him there and then.”

“But you’re not a murderer.” Sabrina murmured.

He shrugged, “I’ve done a lot of terrible things, Sabrina. Broke a lot of people’s hearts. Murder’s only so far down that list.”

Sabrina sighed, then admitted, “I tried to make my feelings disappear.”

“Sorry?” Ambrose looked confused.

She tugged him over to sit on the staircase beside her as she confessed, “I used a spell, to burn away my feelings for him,”  _ and for Harvey,  _ she omits, “And it didn’t work because looking at him, seeing him like that… I love him so much it _ hurts.” _

Ambrose sighed shakily, “You can’t burn away love, cous. Not true, real love -- no magic can erase it,”  _ trust me, I’ve tried,  _ he wants to add, but doesn’t even want to think of the way Luke’s death took a toll on him.

In retrospect, he was a narcissistic, chauvinistic utter  _ douchebag _ , but Ambrose had  _ liked  _ him, and it was the first time in a long time he’d connected with someone.

He offered, “Do you want me to phone your friends; Theo, Rosalind, Harvey?”

She shook her head, “No, they and Robin are all having a double date and I really don’t wanna bother them.”

“You shouldn’t be alone.” Ambrose took her hand and squeezed it.

She smiled sadly, “I’m not alone. I have you with me,” then rested her head on his shoulder.

Ambrose paused for a second; he had barely even considered himself as part of her life; the past few months had been so toxic to him that he didn’t even consider himself a person anymore.

Once again, he was a pariah, hated and alone, but here, now, Sabrina held onto him, and he could almost feel his heart beating again.

Salem joined them a few moments later, purring as he rubbed his head against Sabrina’s ankle in an attempt at comfort.

“Hey, Salem.” she gave a watery smile and stroked his forehead, “Thank you for being here.”

Salem meowed, and sensing Ambrose’s sadness, cuddled him too.

Hours passed, and though sitting on the staircase grew uncomfortable, neither could bring themselves to move until finally, Zelda glided out of the living room and looked up at her family, both looking more like children than anything.

She announced, “We managed to stop the bleeding, he’s conscious,” but when Sabrina jumped up, warned, “You might want to wait, he’s very upset.”

“I need to see him, auntie.” she pleaded, tearing up.

Zelda gave a solemn nod and took her hand, leading her into the living room; Ambrose was about to follow when he caught Prudence at the end of the corridor, and opted to follow her instead, despite her attempts to avoid him.

When he caught up with her, she was standing rigid and practically  _ screamed  _ at him,  _ “Why won’t you fucking leave me alone?!” _

He looked flabbergasted at her tone and shrunk a little in her knife-sharp gaze, “I just wanted to talk--”

She cut him off, “About what exactly, about how you let my maniac of a father live? How that nearly cost the lives of  _ everyone  _ on this damn planet? How you got one of my sisters killed, and the other rendered insane?”

“I didn’t--” his jaw wobbled, and tears pricked his eyes, “Prudence, I’m sorry--”

She scoffed, _ “‘Sorry’? You’re-- you’re ‘sorry’?  _ Sorry won’t bring back Dorcas, now will it? Maybe everyone was right, maybe you are just a terrible person.”

_ “Don’t say that.”  _ he begged, “Please, not you, I can’t take you.”

She stepped into his space, and he shrivelled up more, “You got Luke killed, you got Dorcas killed… you’re a killer, Ambrose Spellman, and I--  _ I fucking hate you.”  _

That was enough to break him completely, and he sunk to his knees, crying harder than he had in ages,  _ “I’m sorry.”  _ he whispered between ragged sobs that wracked his frame, “I fucked up and I deserve death for that, I know, b-- but--” he couldn’t look up at her, “I never wanted to hurt you, Prudence. I  _ loved  _ you.” he then whispered,  _ “I love you.” _

Prudence stared down at him in shock; she had seen him upset before, but never like this, sounding more like a wounded animal than man as painful sobs tore from him.

It had been a difficult few months, but today had been hell, and something about the sight of the man she loved in such pain soothed the bubbling rage within her.

Dorcas was dead, nothing could change that.

Agatha was insane, a murderer and gallivanting with her father, and there was nothing she could do.

Except forgive.

Her own tears falling, she knelt beside Ambrose and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, cupping his cheek with the other. He avoided eye contact like a terrified child as he chanted out apologies, voice becoming hoarse with tears.

_ “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”  _ he wept, truly believing himself to be this loveless monster.

Prudence sighed shakily and pressed their foreheads together, whispering,  _ “I know.” _

She kissed him gently on the forehead and brought his head onto her lap, stroking his hair as they both cried, mourning the losses they had both endured.

Meanwhile, Sabrina was led into the living room, where Nick lay slumped on the sofa, staring blankly at the wall. He was pallid, eyes shining with unshed tears and he looked absolutely exhausted.

Marie looked up at Sabrina solemnly and explained, “We have fixed all of the physical injuries, but I’m afraid the psychological damage seems indeterminable,  _ mon enfant.”  _ she’s sat close to Zelda, the two practically on each other’s laps (they had attempted to be subtle, but Sabrina and Ambrose worked everything out within literal days).

“I’m sorry, Sabrina,” Zelda added, her tone of voice unfamiliarly empathetic.

Sabrina’s face crumpled a little, but she wiped away the burgeoning tears to plead, “Leave us.”

Hilda offered, “You sure, love? I can stick around, get you something to eat.”

“I need to be alone with him.” Sabrina reiterated, and soon everyone filed out, Hilda stopping to stroke her cheek as she did so.

When she also left, Sabrina made her way over to Nick, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the dried bloody scar on his wrist, mapping over and splitting his beautiful skin.

She gasped in shock, eyes filling with tears as she tried to remember Lilith’s advice to her when Nick left her.

_ Queens don’t cry. _

Right now, she didn’t feel like a queen, she felt vulnerable and broken, and she wasn’t even the one who attempted suicide.

Sensing her staring at him, Nick stated, “It wasn’t you.”

“Wh-- What?” she broke off, trying not to choke on her shuddering breath.

Nick explained, “I didn’t try to kill myself because of you.”

“I find that hard to believe.” she tentatively sat beside him, feeling him stiffen, “Why-- Why did you--”

Nick replied flatly, “Because I don’t want to live anymore.”

His answer, though obvious, brought out a selfish rage in Sabrina --  _ how dare he try to leave her again! _

She spoke, trying to keep her voice even, “So, what, you were just going to off yourself?”

“I was going to remove myself from the situation.” his voice cracked a little, “And stop myself from ruining your life.”

Sabrina took his hand, “I don’t think you’re ruining my life.”

“I hurt you. I screamed at you, blamed you, cheated on you…”

She shook her head, “That was my father, he was still possessing you.”

“But I don’t know if it was!” there was a painful desperation in his voice, “I think, somewhere deep down, it was a part of me, tainted and evil.” 

She thought of his breakdown over Amalia, and how he had thought of himself as evil then too.

Just like the previous time, she kissed his knuckles, then tried to comfort him, “If it was you, even a little bit, we can figure that out.”

_ “We can’t!”  _ he pulled his hand away and rubbed his face with it, eyes red and irritated, “I don’t want to do this anymore, Spellman.”

“Then we don’t have to--”

He broke her off, _ “I’m not talking about us.”  _ his entire body started to shake as he explained, “When I was in-- when I was in Hell, your father--” he swallowed thickly, and the tears began to flow, “He didn’t just  _ physically  _ abuse me.” he took a trembling breath, then continued, “Dorcas was right. Wh-When she said he made me his bitch… she was right.”

_ “He raped you.”  _ a tear fell down Sabrina’s face; she had suspected this was the case for a while now, but it being confirmed tore her to pieces.

_ No wonder he won’t look at me. _

In front of her, Nick’s inner wounds began to crack open, and though he attempted to stifle the sobs that escaped him. He buried his face in his hands, hiding from her in shame.

“I’m sorry.” Sabrina whispered, and her hand floated a few inches above his back, afraid to even touch him in this state.

He released a gut-wrenching sob, “Looking a-- at me, you must think I’m so weak.”

“No, not at all.” she sniffled, “Nick, you are  _ not  _ weak, you just need a bit of help.”

He choked out,  _ “So you think I’m crazy?” _

_ “No!”  _ she defended, “I think you’re traumatised. And as a result of that trauma, you’re trying to isolate yourself because it made you feel worthless. But I need you to listen to me, Nick Scratch. You are  _ not  _ worthless, you are beautiful and you are mine. And I can’t--” she broke off, her voice becoming choked up as she finally tilted his face upward, “And I don’t wanna live without you.”

He whispered shakily, “But I’m not--  _ I’m not strong.” _

“You’re the strongest man I know.” she rested her forehead against his, “And I love you.”

He confessed, “I love you, Sabrina. I tried to push you away because there’s something inside me that-- something inherently bad. I didn’t w-- want you to-- I didn’t want to hurt you any more.  _ But I did.  _ I fucked up, and I keep fucking up and I--” he was cut off by her lips gently pressing against his.

It was a chaste kiss, definitely shorter than their usual, but it was enough to make him melt into it, and when Sabrina pulled back, he lingered a little.

Finally, when he reopened his wet eyes and locked with hers, he admitted, “I think-- I think I need some help, Spellman.”

Sabrina nodded and pulled him into her arms, stroking her hands through his hair as he wept softly, “Then we’ll get you some, I promise.”

It was a promise she was determined to keep, to hold onto him and never let him go.


End file.
